


light the way home (and i'll follow)

by ssukis



Series: 100 ways to say 'I Love You' [3]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssukis/pseuds/ssukis
Summary: For Wonwoo, home had never been brick walls built around rooms of worn out furniture. For Wonwoo, home came in the form of a clumsy, lanky guy who coincidentally went by the name of Kim Mingyu.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on #31 “don’t worry about me.”

The first time Jeon Wonwoo meets Kim Mingyu, he brings the latter home with two scraped elbows and a nearly fractured knee. 

It’s on an autumn Sunday that Wonwoo visits the neighbourhood playground. He sees an unfamiliar boy sitting on one of the swings with a lollipop hanging from his mouth, staring into space and looking very lonely. The boy has a sad look on his face. Wonwoo feels intrigued, wanting to know the reason behind the apparent frown on the unknown boy’s face. 

Wonwoo takes a seat on the swing next to the boy and boldly asks for his name. He learns of the name Kim Mingyu and that said boy had moved into the vacant house a few roads from Wonwoo’s a couple of days ago. Wonwoo quietly listens as Mingyu sadly expresses his disappointment at having to move from the bustling city of Seoul to a quaint town on the outskirts, mentioning he had loads of friends in his old elementary school and his kind, pretty teachers adored him a whole lot. Life had unexpectedly become difficult for the eight-year-old. 

Wonwoo, without hesitation, offers to be Mingyu’s first friend in this town. Truth be told, Wonwoo hasn't had that many friends either, so this seemed like a win-win situation for the both of them. To commemorate the beginning of their convenient friendship, they take turns pushing each other on the swing, complaining when the other doesn't push hard enough for the swing to reach satisfying heights. They turn their attention to the slides after they've become bored of the swings. 

The sudden influx of adrenaline rushing through Wonwoo’s veins have made him a little more daring than he’s been told by the adults to be. He points over to the monkey bars with a mischievous grin on his face to which Mingyu fearlessly takes on the challenge.

Mingyu grabs on tightly to the bars, slightly unwilling to let go. Wonwoo prompts him into the feat by lightly nudging the other boy’s hips. Mingyu dangles precariously on the bars, swinging back to gather enough momentum to seize the next bar.

He should’ve known better, Wonwoo thinks, when he’s gaping at the boy under the rusted blue monkey bars groaning from the pain of the fall. He supposes there’s no better way to get to know a new friend by supporting most of his weight on the way back to his own home. Wonwoo huffs and puffs as he walks the distance between the playground and his home with an injured overgrown boy in tow.

When Wonwoo’s mother opens the door to the house, she expressively notes how Mingyu is abnormally tall for a mere eight-year old, and then proceeds to nurse him with the emergency first aid kit in the kitchen.

Wonwoo timidly apologizes to Mingyu when his parents arrive to take him back home. Mingyu grins at him, wide and full of carefree youth, dismissing Wonwoo’s meek “sorry” with a small, weak punch in the shoulders. He waves Mingyu off on his front porch, promising to accompany him to school tomorrow.

Wonwoo’s mother gives him a pointed look as she shuts the door close. “He’d make a great friend, Wonwoo. As long as you don’t unintentionally fracture his bones again.”

+++

Trouble. Wonwoo and Mingyu are both in for so much trouble.

The cold winter night bites at their skin as they walk along the roadside, breaths clouding at the opening of their mouths. It’s nearly midnight; way past the curfew their parents had set for them that evening before sending them off on the doorstep of a seemingly harmless house party. 

Wonwoo and Mingyu had learned, for the first time, that it wasn’t at all difficult to fool adults.

“Do I smell of cigs?” Mingyu asks, lifting his jacket under Wonwoo’s nose.

Wonwoo crinkles his nose in disgust, pushing the jacket away. “God, yes. They’re going to ask so many questions when we get back.”

In Wonwoo’s defense, it was entirely Mingyu’s idea to attend the party. Wanting to impress Seungcheol who happened to be a popular high school senior in their neighbourhood, Mingyu eagerly confirmed his 1+1 attendance when Seungcheol had invited him, that extra 1 being a reluctant Wonwoo. 

Mingyu had initially expected a house party to mainly consist of loud, annoying music blasting through the sound system, light booze in the form of a giant bowl of fruit punch, unsuspecting people getting thrown into the pool, and perhaps, if it really did get that wild, cigarettes being lit between the lips of clearly underaged teens. 

What Mingyu had not expected walking into the house party was bottles of hard liquor being passed around like it was a pot of rice, transactions openly made for little packets of illegal drugs, and couples furiously making out up on walls. Wonwoo contemplated dashing out the same way they had came in but Mingyu persistently insisted on staying, convincing his best friend that this could be an enlightening experience and would finally open their fourteen-year-old premature eyes to the real world. 

Wonwoo actively tried steering clear of alcohol and any form of illegal substance, but Yoon Jeonghan was a satan in disguise and with a few breezy words, he had Wonwoo take several gulps of the heaviest whiskey they had. Three sips in and Wonwoo honestly did not remember what it felt like to be sober. 

It had taken him awhile to get his head back together. He huddled himself in the bathtub of an upstairs bathroom, awaiting the sensation of alcohol to ebb away. After an hour or so when his mind felt a little less hazy, he headed back downstairs, ready to get the hell out of the Devil’s pit, and found Mingyu comfortably nestling a goddamn red solo cup in his hand, chatting away with a few seniors. 

Wonwoo had forcefully dragged him out of the conversation and away from the house by the arm, ignoring his protests to stay a little longer. And here they are now, barely half-sober with alcohol still running through their system. Mingyu can’t even walk straight without stumbling on his own two feet and expends the last bit of his conscious into keeping himself from tripping on every little crack in the sidewalk.

“You didn't smoke one, did you?” Wonwoo eyes Mingyu. 

“No way. Had a couple beers and that was it.” 

Wonwoo sighs. “I can't believe I let you drag me into that mess.” 

Mingyu slings his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulder; a pathetic excuse of an apology. Over the years, Wonwoo has grown to be quite tall himself, but Mingyu’s height has still prevailed. “You had fun, right?”

Wonwoo scoffs. “Yeah, in the bathroom.”

They reach the front steps of Wonwoo’s place. He unlocks the door as soundlessly as possible and pushes it open slowly to make sure his parents aren't waiting in the dimly lit hall to whoop their asses into next week. To his relief, the coast is clear and they sneak up the stairs into Wonwoo’s room, remove their outerwear and slip under the sheets of his bed. 

“Your breath’s straight up pungent,” Mingyu says, covering his nose with the sheets as they settle underneath the covers. 

Wonwoo yawns in Mingyu’s face, inching closer to the latter. He supposes this could be payback for getting pulled into this miserable night. “Yours is just as bad. We can’t risk going to the bathroom at this hour.”

Mingyu closes his eyes, snuggling closer to their shared pillow. “Yeah, you’re right. Your mom has the ears of a hawk,” he sleepily drawls. “My head hurts.”

Wonwoo laughs softly. “No one told you to drink that much beer, stupid. You’ve never had any before this. What made you think you could handle that many cups?”

“I had to. Seungcheol and Junhui insisted.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at Mingyu’s unrelenting inclination to impress their older acquaintances and wanting to get on their good side. He wishes Mingyu would realize sooner that people would come to adore him all the same and that he didn’t need to struggle so hard to please others. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Kiss up to people who don’t really matter.”

“I don’t… I don’t do that,” Mingyu answers, voice hesitant which gives away his lie.

“You really don’t have to try so hard, you know? Everyone loves you already.”

“You don’t know what other people say about me. How do you know if they love me or not?”

“Because you’re you. You’re Kim Mingyu.” Because you’re kind when you don’t need to be, because you have the looks, because those are good enough reasons for anyone to like you.

Mingyu stays silent, mulling over Wonwoo’s words. The latter isn’t angry, but he’s had enough of Mingyu’s need to gratify others which often times ended up in him losing more than he was gaining. “Just go to sleep,” Wonwoo says, rolling over to face the wall. His head is starting to spin, and he knows he’ll have hell tomorrow morning.

“See you in the morning,” Mingyu softly says.

They fall asleep to the sound of their quiet rhythmic breathing, like the many other nights they have slept in each other’s beds. 

When they wake to the sunlight rushing in through the windows, they head over to the bathroom to furiously scrub at their mouths to remove any evidences of alcohol consumption from the night before. Fortunately, Wonwoo’s parents only give them an earful for surpassing the curfew, still kept in the dark about the actual events of the party.

When Wonwoo and Mingyu are dismissed with the wave of a hand, the looks of disappointment still resting on Wonwoo’s parents’ faces, the boys exchange an incredulous, albeit relieved look. Adults are easily fooled, after all.

+++

Prom, Wonwoo thinks, is just an excuse for pretentious popular kids to show off their social standing in the pointless school hierarchy when they climb out of a rented limousine with an attractive date by their side. He honestly, for the life of him, cannot seem to rationalise the concept of prancing about on the gymnasium floor to a mediocre local band all the while trying to keep their usual flaunty attitudes in check in hopes of being crowned king and queen at the end of the night. 

Wonwoo despises prom, but his best friend has been waiting for this day to arrive since the beginning of the semester. 

They couldn't be anymore different. Contrasting in more ways than not, Wonwoo sometimes wonders how they’ve managed to upkeep their friendship throughout the years. While Wonwoo’s interests lie in numbers, complicated formulas, and perplexing equations made up of variables and constants, Mingyu finds a black and white ball on the open field far more appealing. Although, the former supposes he doesn’t mind finishing up his math assignments on the stands under the relentless heat while the latter practices shooting goals after school. 

Prom, however, was the one thing Wonwoo could not bring himself to do, even for the sake of Mingyu. He could've accepted Mingyu’s suggestion to go as friends and avoid the hassle of having to find dates, but after the whole process of picking through the pros and cons of prom, he finally turned Mingyu down. (He found that the cons outweighed the pros substantially.) 

And so, on this tragic night (for Wonwoo at least), he sits on Mingyu’s study chair, hunched over his physics homework assigned by his teacher who is, in fact, a proven sadist with the amount of work he dumps on his class every weekend. Wonwoo would’ve preferred to study in his own room, but his older brother’s band’s causing a riot in the house tonight, and there was absolutely no way he could concentrate with instruments clanging noisily in the basement. So, he quietly let himself into the Kim’s house and opted to wait until Mingyu got home from prom.

Wonwoo pushes his glasses up and down the slope of his nose bridge when he gets stuck on a particularly difficult question, doodling random stick figures on the side of the questions. The silence is abruptly broken when the door bursts open. Swiveling his chair around, Wonwoo finds Mingyu by the door wearing a deflated expression with his tie loosened around the collar of his untucked white pressed dress shirt. He has his tux removed and previously-styled hair completely disheveled, looking like an absolute wreck.

The clock on the wall reads 9pm. “You’re home early,” Wonwoo duly notes.

Mingyu flings the tux across the room and misses the laundry hamper by a mere inch. “Prom sucks,” he says, flopping himself face-first unceremoniously onto the bed. 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “That's not what you thought four hours ago.”

“Minkyeong ditched me for Seokmin.” 

Kim Minkyeong; the girl in his PE class who Mingyu had crossed extreme lengths for to ask her to be his date ditched him on the night itself. Wonwoo frowns. “Tough luck.”

“Tell me about it. I had to hang around with Choi Hansol for the rest of the night until I decided I didn’t care anymore.” 

“You’re okay, right?” 

Mingyu flips over. “I’m over it,” he says with a look that suggests otherwise. He clambers his way to his messenger bag on the foot of his bed. “I got us something.”

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu pulls out a bottle of vodka from his bag with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. “Where the hell did you get this?” he asks, wide-eyed as he hurriedly gets up from the chair and onto the bed. 

“The grocery store. Duh.”

“Wait, the cashier didn't question you?” 

Mingyu shakes his head, smugly pressing the bottle onto his cheeks. “My height is pretty convincing, no? It makes me look older than sixteen. Plus, I had these fancy clothes on so she probably thought I was some hot-shot businessman,” he boasts shamelessly about being able to fool unsuspecting cashiers into selling him hard liquor with his unruly height, but is ultimately incapable of unscrewing the cap of that same bottle of vodka. 

Wonwoo snatches the bottle away before Mingyu can hurt himself, and pops the cap open with ease before handing it back over to him. 

“Thanks,” Mingyu says bashfully and brings the mouth of the bottle over his lips, tipping it enough to take a small gulp. His face distorts as the burning sensation runs down his throat, tasting vodka for the first time. 

Wonwoo grabs the bottle from Mingyu’s hand and takes a sip for himself. They had never brought home hard liquor before. They’d sneak in a few cans of cheap convenience store beers whenever the adults aren’t around every now and then, but it isn’t like they have uncontrollable alcoholic tendencies. It was a covert, occasional luxury, and nothing more. 

After a few sips, Wonwoo thinks this might be his new favourite if it didn’t cost that much more than beer. He hands it back to Mingyu to which the latter eagerly accepts and takes another swig of. 

“God, you really should've came to prom,” Mingyu says, walking over to his dresser. “You should've seen the glorious mess of it all. This year’s committee did an extra horrible job.”

“I didn’t think that was possible,” Wonwoo laughs and leans backwards onto the sheets, homework forgotten on the desk. 

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Mingyu asks, pulling out his drawer to get a change of clothes. 

“Hyung’s making a ruckus in the house with his band,” Wonwoo says, drawing quotation marks in the air with his fingers at the mention of his older brother’s absurd excuse of a band. 

Mingyu snickers as he pulls a gray sweatshirt over his torso. Throwing himself onto the bed next to Wonwoo, he heaves a small sigh at the comfort of his clean, fresh clothes and thick sheets. “You staying the night?” he mumbles.

Wonwoo wordlessly nods, scrolling through the newsfeed on his phone. The prospect of returning home at this moment in time doesn’t exactly seem appealing to him. 

“There’s been something on my mind lately.”

At that, Wonwoo drops his phone and rolls over on his side to face Mingyu, looking at the latter expectantly. It’s unusual for Mingyu to give him a heads up before ensuing a somewhat sentimental conversation. He’d normally blurt out a confession in the middle of situations that, at often times, weren’t exactly appropriate and convenient for such conversations to take place. 

Propping his head on his fist, Wonwoo asks, “What’s up?” 

Mingyu takes a breath before meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. “I think I might be gay.”

Wonwoo blinks once, twice. “Look, you can’t say that after you had one girl dump yo-”

“Oh my god, I knew you’d say that,” Mingyu interjects, slightly exasperated. He tries hiding his face by smuggling it against his pillow, but Wonwoo rips it away before he starts injuring himself.

“Stop it, you’re killing yourself.”

“I think I’m gay,” Mingyu repeats himself, a little more adamant this time. 

“I heard you the first time,” Wonwoo replies, letting the information sink in. Here he is, having just heard his best friend confess to being attracted to guys, and all Wonwoo can do is wear a dumbfounded expression on his face. He really needs to start doing better at this whole supportive best friend thing. 

“Well, say something!” Mingyu wails. 

“I’m happy for you?” is all Wonwoo can manage. He's finding it difficult to articulate coherent thoughts when his mind is still trying to wrap around the situation. “When did you know?”

“I really don’t remember,” Mingyu breathes slowly. “I just realized one day, and things just kind of snowballed from there.”

“What about Minkyeong?”

“I know, I know! I went through all that shit just to ask her out for prom, being all heterosexual and crap. I thought if I had gone to prom with her, I’d realize this was maybe just a phase and I wasn't really actually into guys. I still don’t know if I am. Oh God, I’m confusing you. This is confusing for me, too.”

Wonwoo’s heart clenches at the thought of his best friend facing inner turmoil. His mind starts to wander to the probable times when Mingyu had no one but himself to handle the confusion of his own sexuality and how much courage it took for him to mention it to Wonwoo. He can't think of anything else to offer other than a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder and a light squeeze. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Just know that you're still my best friend,” Wonwoo slowly says, and he hopes it’s enough to reassure Mingyu nothing will ever change between them. 

Mingyu’s expression visibly softens, like he’s deflating in relief, and gives Wonwoo an appreciative smile. Mingyu nods with a tired look on his face as his eyes flutter shut, clearly done for the night. “I’ll figure it out, eventually. I have to tell my parents soon.”

“You think they’d be cool about it?” Wonwoo asks, to which Mingyu shrugs. Half a second later, Wonwoo realizes it was a dumb question to ask and that he’s completely failing at being considerate to Mingyu’s situation. “Thank you for telling me about it,” he says, resting his head on Mingyu’s pillow. He could use some sleep, too.

“I’d have no one else if not for you.” 

+++

They made it. Twelve years of school, and they had finally made it to the finish line. 

Wonwoo and Mingyu were all proud smiles and straight backs on their graduation ceremony earlier this week as they posed for group pictures with their rolled-up certificates in their hands, gowns on their shoulders, and mortarboards on their heads. It was overwhelmingly bittersweet; having to leave such a familiar place of people Wonwoo had grown rather fond of all these years, but simultaneously, he was glad that day had finally come. It’s a vast milestone, and he had proudly stepped over it with Mingyu.

He looks over at Mingyu seated on the swing beside his. They’re spending their last evening in this town in the same playground they had met for the first time all those years ago. It feels befitting, sort of like how in the end, everything comes full circle.

A small smile plays on Wonwoo’s lips as he looks over at the monkey bars, nearly every inch of it covered in old rust, and recalling choppy frames of Mingyu falling from the bars. They’ve grown so much since then; from know-nothing kids into fleeting adults, solicited now to take on the real world on separate roads. It hits Wonwoo now, that they're no longer teenagers; unrelentlessly youthful and forgivably reckless. 

Tomorrow, Mingyu would be leaving for Seoul, where he had come from, to train as a professional football player for the national team, and the day after, Wonwoo would board a bus that brings him two states over to study agricultural science in the university of his dreams. They’re at a crossroads, having to inevitably diverge from a path they have both walked on together longer than they could remember. 

The Sun’s about to set, and soon they’d walk along the asphalt towards the Kim’s household to have dinner in lieu of Mingyu’s departure. Wonwoo imagines past anecdotes would be brought up at the dining table for nostalgic purposes, laughter shared, and tears shed at the end of the night. 

There's something nagging at Wonwoo’s chest, restlessly clutching at his heart, and desperately wanting to be known. The timing couldn't have been more terrible (blame it on his reluctance and cowardice for keeping it pent-up), but today was the day. They have but the number of hours left on their fingers until their days together would become solitary, and Wonwoo would never forgive himself if he didn't get this out of his chest by the end of the night. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how nervous are you about leaving home?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the soft silence that had surrounded them so comfortably. 

“I’d say a solid eight,” Mingyu replies, swinging slowly on the swing. His legs no longer dangle slightly above the ground like it used to when he was eight, but are stretched across it endlessly. He’s gotten so unbearably handsome, too. “You?” 

Wonwoo muses on the question for a short moment before saying, “Eight point five.”

Mingyu chuckles. “You sure it’s not a ten out of ten?” he teases. It’s not a secret that Wonwoo is nervous about university and having to fend for himself for the first time in eighteen years, and Mingyu had emptied a slot in his daily agenda to remind Wonwoo of his worries leading up to the very day. Wonwoo’s pretty sure Mingyu feels just as anxious about leaving their neighbourhood; Wonwoo’s just not the type to be an asshole about it. 

Silence engulfs them once more. A gust of light summer wind blows past gently, sweeping the crisp, fallen leaves across the pavement, ruffling their hair, and all Wonwoo can think of is this is it, this is it, this is it.

“Mingyu?”

Said boy hums softly in response, digging his heels into the ground to halt the movement of his swing. He looks at Wonwoo with a soft expression, and he doesn’t know if he has ever seen eyes as warm and comforting as Mingyu’s. 

“I love you.”

When did he start loving Mingyu? Was it when he began to notice Mingyu’s habit of pulling on the collar of shirt when he’s nervous? Was it when Wonwoo’s eyes kept going back to the distracting jutt of Mingyu’s red, red lips when they were working on an impossible algebra question? Or was it the time he accidentally walked in on Mingyu in the midst of changing out of his training attire in the athlete’s locker room?

Maybe Wonwoo had starting loving Mingyu years before; in the years when Mingyu would selflessly let Wonwoo play with his toys, when Wonwoo watched Mingyu develop an interest in football, when it was Wonwoo and Mingyu, Mingyu and Wonwoo, and never one without the other.

Truth be told, Wonwoo had always loved Mingyu, but for the past year, that same love had begun to evolve into one that went beyond what was platonic. It had been terrifying at first; realizing you had feelings for the one person you never thought you would, gradually coming to terms with your sexuality, and accepting the fact that you had been profoundly in love with your best friend all along. He really wished he had realized it sooner, but feelings were feelings, as unpredictable and uncontrollable as it is, and Wonwoo had little to no experience at handling things like such. 

But it’s an even more terrifying situation now; having just bared his true feelings in three simple words, waiting and waiting for an answer. 

Mingyu looks away from Wonwoo’s eyes, and at the changing sky. He breaks into a grin, and the edges of his brightly lit eyes crinkle as the smile reaches them. 

It takes Wonwoo half a second to realize what that had signified, two seconds for Mingyu to shift his swing sideways towards Wonwoo’s, and an even shorter time for Wonwoo to meet him halfway to press their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

Mingyu pulls away, and his grin grows wider. “I love you, too,” he breathes softly, and Wonwoo has never felt more alive. The boy he loves feels the same way. 

The sky pours all of a sudden. The rain falls; heavy and incessant, like it has never rained before. Getting up from the swing, Mingyu grabs Wonwoo’s hand without warning and runs. They run through the rain as it beats down on them, run as fast as their legs can carry them, run as their lungs catch fire. 

Wonwoo’s entire being hums with overflowing bliss, euphoria pulsing through his bloodstream, and he wonders if the loud thrumming of his heart can be contained by his ribcage any longer. He almost forgets to breathe when Mingyu comes to a stop at the lamppost just outside of his home and gingerly places his hand on Wonwoo’s cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. This time, it lasts a little longer for them to savour the feel of soft lips pressed against each other. They let the storm soak them as they kiss again and again, feeling it in more than their lips.

When they break apart, a promise is made, from one to the other, just as they enter the house with their hands tightly intertwined. It’s not much, Wonwoo thinks, but it’s more than enough for now.

+++

Bus rides have always given Wonwoo migraines, but this one is especially bad.

Through the four-hour ride, the bus trudges along bumpy roads that seem to stretch across oceans, the air-conditioning whirs noisily (much to his annoyance), and the passengers aboard cannot possibly seem to grasp the concept of peace and quiet. The poor opacity curtains by his window seat is unable to completely obstruct the sunlight from hurting his eyes and completely burning one side of his face. Huddled up on that miserable seat, Wonwoo wants more than anything for the ride to be over, for him to finally be home for good.

It has been an undoubtedly rough four years for Wonwoo. Honestly, who knew university would consume so much of him? Despite making a great group of friends, he still felt terribly homesick most times. When he was running on three cups of instant ramen on late nights finishing up rushed assignments, he longed for the taste of the home-cooked food his mother never failed to put on the table every evening. He missed everything about home; from his dirty, old bedroom to the dingy basement his brother’s god-awful band used to play in. It didn’t help that he didn’t have Mingyu with him either, and Wonwoo thinks he hadn't known heartache until he knew how it felt like to be away from Mingyu. 

They saw each other when they could, which wasn't often considering Wonwoo’s academic semesters each lasted five months long, and Mingyu was hardly given the leisure to leave the institute in between his tight football training schedules. When they were given breaks during Chuseok and Christmas, they’d spend time together in their homes back in their neighbourhood for a few days before having to part ways again. But even during the holidays spent together, it was never truly, wholly made up of happy moments because they both knew they would inevitably have to return to their universities at the end of those short blissful periods. 

Wonwoo remembers Mingyu bawling his eyes out every time he sent him off at the bus terminal, and how he never dared to let his own tears fall in front Mingyu because he was afraid it wouldn’t stop once it began. No matter how many times they parted at that damned bus terminal, it still hurt as much each time. Wonwoo heart ached at the pain washed across Mingyu’s face, at how the latter latched onto his hands a little tighter with every step towards the platform, and at how his warm eyes slowly built up tears threatening to spill like a broken dam (it always did). A few more months, Wonwoo used to think, a few more months without him and I’ll be home again. But months had never felt so long in a foreign dorm room filled by void spaces that had him feeling a new kind of loneliness even video calls and constant text messages couldn’t cure.

Wonwoo realized then that he had taken seeing Mingyu on a regular basis for granted. Video calls with Mingyu at the end of the day became the only thing he looked forward to in his monotonous routine of endless lectures, projects, and group meetings. Some nights, Wonwoo would unintentionally sleep off mid-conversation from the imploding fatigue built up from a day’s worth of classes and lab activities. Other nights (which was most nights), Mingyu would be the one to fall silent first because he was so physically worn out from the long hours of practice. 

Wonwoo hadn't known being in a long-distance relationship would be so difficult, but they made it work, because they wanted it to, because they knew it was worth it. Even if their conversations lasted barely two minutes and consisted only of how was your day? or did you eat yet? before one of them decided to retire to bed, they made effort in communicating through the chaos of their own separate hectic lives. 

The bus jerks to a stop, shaking Wonwoo from his reverie. Hurriedly, he stands up from his seat to wait at the head of the line. The door slides open and Wonwoo is the first one out the bus. He fishes out his phone to type a text to Mingyu, asking if he’s already waiting at the entrance. His phone receives a reply right away. I’m waiting by the usual place, Wonwoo reads, and he instantly knows the place Mingyu is referring to. 

Gathering his luggage, Wonwoo makes it over to the statue by the entrance in long, fast strides. There’s a sense of impatience in his chest and urgency in his steps, and he feels as though the people in front of him aren't walking quick enough and his legs aren't carrying him forward at a more rapid pace. He stops himself from almost breaking into a run each time he thinks of seeing Mingyu’s face again for the first time in five months, reminding himself that the long wait is over and Mingyu is right at the corner of this turn. 

Nearing the statue, Wonwoo’s eyes begin searching for the one person he has grown so accustomed to looking for. It takes him a while, but his frantic eyes land on the guy towering nearly a head over the rest of the crowd in his typical casual day-out outfit of dark-washed jeans and a solid colour pocket T-shirt. 

Unknowingly, a grin starts to stretch across Wonwoo’s face as he approaches Mingyu who catches his eyes mid-way and breaks into the biggest, most blinding smile Wonwoo has ever seen. Mingyu takes a few steps to close the distance between them and extends his arms to envelope him a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hi,” Wonwoo says through his smile, struggling to hold his duffel bag whilst drawing his arms around Mingyu’s waist to reciprocate the hug. 

“Hey,” Mingyu says back, and he’s so, so warm. His arms wrapped around Wonwoo are suffocating in the best way possible. The warmth of his skin seeps through his gray T-shirt and into Wonwoo’s, and he misses this feeling like crazy. He misses being in Mingyu’s comforting arms, in between his broad shoulders. He misses the sweet scent of softener in Mingyu’s clothes because he’s always worried about the stench of his sweat from the previous wear, the soft feel of Mingyu’s slightly hazel hair in between his fingers, and that dorky, big grin he has on when they see each other for the first time in months. Wonwoo thinks that there’s no other feeling in the world that could beat the feeling of coming home. He’s so deliriously happy. 

They pull back after a short while, and Mingyu sniffles despite having a smile plastered on his face. Wonwoo thinks he could be tearing up, too, but he can’t be entirely sure. 

“Let’s go,” Mingyu says, grabbing the duffel bag from Wonwoo’s hands. He slips his other hand into Wonwoo’s, interlacing their fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Mom misses you.” 

Wonwoo isn't sure if Mingyu’s talking about his mom or Wonwoo’s own, but he supposes it doesn’t really make a difference. 

+++

Apartment 704, Wonwoo and Mingyu’s very first. 

Mingyu jabs the key into the lock, turns it and pushes the door open to their two-bedroom unit on the seventh floor of an apartment complex in Hongdae. They signed the papers yesterday, settled every property insurance that was recommended to them, and were handed the keys right away. They’re only renting for now, but Wonwoo thinks it doesn’t take away from the legitimacy of the whole situation. 

“Home sweet home,” Mingyu announces, stepping into the unit with his shoes on, and Wonwoo follows suit. The place is completely bare save for the few pieces of decoration on the walls left by the previous tenants. There are specks of dust on every inch of the floor and furniture, branching cracks of paint on the bleak walls, and the stifling air on the inside is almost suffocating. This place wasn’t their first pick (Wonwoo doubts it’d be anyone’s), but the rent was the only one among the many apartments in Hongdae that didn’t cost them each a kidney every month. Mingyu had just begun officially playing for the national team stationed in Seoul a month ago, so moving to the city had become inevitable for the both of them. 

Moving to open the windows, Wonwoo says, “We’re definitely going to repaint the walls. To hell with the management’s rules.” He can’t stand the sight of the layer of paint cracking open. It reminds him of the horror novels he used to read when he was younger, the ones that fashioned old haunted houses, and that doesn't exactly seem to scream home sweet home to him. 

Mingyu laughs and the sound of his laughter fills the empty space, bouncing off the walls in echoes. “We’ll just have to paint it back to the original color when we move out to a better place.” 

Mingyu had made a firm promise that they wouldn't be living in this apartment for long, that he would start making money from competing in international tournaments to pay rent for a better place in the city. Wonwoo, too, had gotten a job at a research university as a TA, but the initial pay isn't all that great. Truth be told, Wonwoo’s in no rush whatsoever to move out of the place he has barely settled into yet. As long as he was with Mingyu, anywhere was home. 

Mingyu walks over to Wonwoo by the window and circles his arms around Wonwoo’s waist in a loose back hug, resting his chin on his shoulder. “When are you going to marry me?” Mingyu asks softly. 

Wonwoo scoffs. “We’re practically married. We’ve been together for five years, know each other’s families, have sex twice a week, and we’re even moving in together,” he replies, shying away from Mingyu’s touch. The younger is only ever excessively intimate when he’s asking for something he desperately wants from him, and Wonwoo thinks it’s a little unfair. 

“That is exactly why you should marry me,” Mingyu pouts, and Wonwoo wants to punch it off his face. Softly, though. “And I’m pretty sure we have sex more often than that.”

“We can adopt a pet if you like,” Wonwoo suggests. “That would make us extremely married then.” This isn’t the first time Mingyu has brought up the (one-sided) discussion on marriage. While Mingyu, being the old-school romantic, is adamantly opinionated on marriage being the end-game of their relationship, Wonwoo thinks he’s pretty contented with their stance as a couple as of this moment. There’s no need for fancy receptions and an expensive engagement ring to validate their relationship any further. As long as he loved Mingyu, and Mingyu loved him, it is all the validation he needs. 

“Look, we’re still young. You just started officially playing for the team and I got my first ever job,” Wonwoo says slowly, attempting to soften the blow of rejection. “Let’s not take things too fast. We have forever.” He tries flashing Mingyu a smile and taking his hands in his own. Mingyu stops pouting and his expression brightens slightly, giving Wonwoo’s hands a light squeeze. 

Mingyu gives Wonwoo a long look. “The next time I ask, you can’t say no to me.”

“That depends on when ‘next time’ is,” Wonwoo teases just because Mingyu is insufferably adorable whenever he's sulking and the former is trying to get a reaction out of him. 

Mingyu groans unnecessarily loud, and it reminds Wonwoo of the times when Mingyu would constantly go on full-blown rants with raging indignation about the unfair treatment his football team was getting from their high school’s student council. “Stop playing hard to get!” 

This part of the conversation ends when Wonwoo conveniently mentions there are boxes to shift and a fairly filthy apartment to clean. But he never tells him that he was always Mingyu’s to begin with. 

+++

For all the miracles the universe has seamlessly woven for Wonwoo, life could still be difficult at times. Those times are now.

This day literally can't get any worse. Despite working as a TA for almost half a year now, Wonwoo still can’t seem to get used to the hefty workload. From the moment he entered campus early this morning, piles of papers were left on his desk for him to grade. It was mentally exhausting to read essays on agricultural research that were pages long. Some were articulate but most were terribly written, and by the twentieth script, the messily scrawled words began to blur into one another as Wonwoo’s temple throbbed dully. And like all bosses, Wonwoo’s had gotten out of his way to breathe down his neck for him to completely grade the papers by the end of work hours.

Wonwoo mindlessly walks into the elevator when it slides open and he barely registers the exasperated voice of someone calling out to him to hold the doors. When he comes to his senses, he hits the button just as the doors completely shut. Soonyoung steps into the elevator, muttering a soft thanks, and flashes a small smile at Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo hits the fifth floor button without having to ask Soonyoung which floor his stays on. It’s a fairly small apartment complex, so it’s not a surprise that Wonwoo had made a few friends of his age group in these six months. Soonyoung, who was kind enough to lend a helping hand when they were still shifting boxes in the early days of moving into the apartment, had been especially easy to make friends with. 

“Hey,” Soonyong greets in his usual cheerful fashion. Wonwoo can practically feel his energy bouncing off the metal walls of the lift. “Long day?”

Wonwoo gives him a tight smile and mumbles a meek, defeated yes in response. “What about you?” he asks in return out of courtesy.

Soonyoung shrugs. “The dance studio was busier than usual today. I’m just happy to be back home.”

Wonwoo wishes he could say the same for himself. 

Soonyoung steps out of the lift when it opens on the fifth floor, saying goodbye to Wonwoo who responds with a wave. When the lift reopens on the seventh floor, Wonwoo contemplates staying in the confines of the lift. Maybe he should hit the close button, go back down the lobby, and stay at a hotel for a night. But he quickly brushes away these thoughts because Wonwoo isn’t one to run away from his problems, and surely not from one he didn’t cause. 

He walks out of the lift, and takes small, unsure steps towards his unit, feeling more and more anxious with every step closer. He doesn’t know if Mingyu’s home, or how to deal with him if he is. If he isn’t, Wonwoo can call it a night, crawl into the bed after locking their bedroom door without having to face Mingyu. He’s tired down to his bones, and he doesn’t know if he can take another verbal fight.

When the door opens as he’s twisting the key, he knows Mingyu’s already home. He apprehensively steps into the house. The lights in the kitchen and living room are switched on. And Mingyu’s in the kitchen. He’s in the goddamn kitchen, and Wonwoo can’t remember the last time he’s seen this happen. Wonwoo walks past the kitchen without so much so as a glance towards him, heading right for the bedroom. 

“Hey,” Mingyu utters. “You’re back.”

Wonwoo purposefully ignores Mingyu. God, how he hates it when they get into an argument. He hates how cold and evasive he becomes to the one person he loves the most. He wants to forgive Mingyu, but last night’s argument is still on replay in his mind and his blood is already starting to boil. A confrontation followed by stunned silence, frustrated sighs in between attempts at resolving the problem, a slam of the bedroom door when Wonwoo knew things weren’t going anywhere as Mingyu steered further and further away from the point, and a dinner left cold. 

“Are you going to continue ignoring me?”

Wonwoo all but takes wider strides towards the bedroom. 

“Hear me out, alright?” Mingyu pleads, desperation in his voice. It pricks at Wonwoo’s skin, making him comply. He stops at his tracks and slowly turns towards Mingyu’s direction. He gives the younger a blank stare but he’s listening. “Look, I thought about it. You’re right, it’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo walks towards the couch and sets himself down. His face shows no sign of a change in expression. It’s going to take more than an apology to fix things this time around. Mingyu approaches the couch and takes a seat next to Wonwoo, making sure there are a few inches of space between their bodies. Wonwoo remains silent, face turned away, waiting for Mingyu to continue. 

The younger lets out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately, that I’m not trying and helping out. That was a fucking shit excuse I gave you yesterday. I should’ve admitted that I wasn’t putting in as much effort instead of trying to sugarcoat things. I thought about it the whole night and you’re always going to be my top priority. I was just distracted for awhile from getting all these new opportunities. Okay, shit, I’m making up excuses again. Say something?”

Wonwoo scoffs dryly. 

Mingyu bites his lips before going on. “I understand that you’re mad right now and that you might want to hit me in the face to give me a few bruises but you’ve gotta forgive me, alright? I can’t stand another night like this. From now on, the gap between you and football will grow in distance. So please, just forgive me. I promise I’ll try harder.”

Wonwoo groans, turning to face Mingyu. He just doesn’t fucking get it. “That isn’t what I want you to do, you fucking idiot! I don’t want you putting aside football to spend more time with me. You think I’m not happy that you’re doing the things you’ve been wanting to do since we were ten? Of course, I’m happy for you. I’m fucking ecstatic.”

“Then just fucking tell me what to do.”

“I want you to at least try to talk to me when you come home. Ask about my day, tell me about yours. I know you’re shit tired all the time but I am, too. But this isn’t going to work if we’re both tired and not trying at the same time. I want you to ask me if I’ve done the clothes or get takeout when there isn’t any food for dinner. I want you to notice when something’s wrong, not have me yell at you one night when the problem’s grown too big for one of us to handle. Just because you have the more physical job doesn’t mean you don’t need to do shit when you get back home.” 

The silence that comes after is deafening. Mingyu stares at the his feet with his hands clasped. They sit like this for awhile. Has it been two minutes? Two hours?

Wonwoo closes the distance between their bodies. He tries again. “We’ve gotta talk more, alright? Just fucking talk. Like actually communicate like functioning human beings. I swear we’re more like zombies in the small hours we’re together in this apartment.” 

“Yeah, got it. Talk.”

“And help out. Like put the clothes in the washing machine, maybe even fold them when they’re done. Do the dishes, too. Take out the trash if you’re feeling like it. No wait, cut that. Do it even if you’re not feeling it”

“Okay, that too.”

“Yeah. Okay, see? This is good. This is progress,” Wonwoo clears his throat. He still hasn't recovered from that sudden outburst. 

“I’ll try, so please don’t give up on me,” Mingyu says, eyes still trained on the floor.

It saddens Wonwoo to hear that Mingyu thinks he might give up on him, that he’d give up this relationship. He’s upset at what has been happening; all this unravelling and undoing of what they’ve spent the last few years trying to build, but he has never once thought of giving up. But Mingyu isn’t someone he wants to give up. He wants to keep him as long as he can, as long as time permits. Every argument they’ve ever had, he was willing to fix things, brick by brick, if it had come to that to save this relationship. He’d never give up on them. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’d never want to lose you.”

Mingyu looks up from the floor with a small, straight smile. “I’m sorry,” he says again. 

“I forgive you.” 

“For real?”

“Don’t screw up again, Kim Mingyu. You’ll be sleeping in Soonyoung and Jihoon’s apartment if this happens the next time.”

He laughs and that is when Wonwoo knows everything’s going to be alright. They’re going to fix things. He knows they will. Mingyu has never disappointed him a second time. 

“Dinner?” Mingyu asks. 

Wonwoo nods, smiling. Mingyu hasn’t made a meal since they moved to Seoul. He doesn’t tell the younger this but he has always loved the food he makes. He craves it more than ever now, since his cooking brought a taste of their hometown. 

“How was the couch last night, by the way?”

“Terrible,” Mingyu whines, “I think I hurt my back.”

“Great. Guess you’ll be spending another night on it.”

Suddenly, Mingyu grabs onto Wonwoo’s forearm and tugs him close, landing a sound kiss on his lips. “You sure you want to spend the night alone?” 

Wonwoo leans in to kiss him again. “Maybe not.”

+++

“I dreamt about you last night.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it was an old memory. We were in middle school and you were playing that first game you lost.”

“And then I cried for two hours,” Mingyu continues from the other end of the line, laughing softly.

“Yeah, you did.”

“Happy anniversary, hyung. Sorry it had to be like this.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It isn’t like it’s our first time being apart during our anniversary.”

‘I know, but it just sucks. I wish we could spend it together.”

“We are spending it together. We’re talking now, aren’t we?” 

Mingyu lets out a weak laugh with no sense of amusement. It’s hollow and sad, and it breaks Wonwoo’s heart. “I miss you, hyung. I wish you were here or I was there. I just wish we were together and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“I miss you, too.”

“I won’t be late tonight. We’ll Skype and watch Star Wars and eat pizza and drink cheap beer. It’s going to be one hell of a fun night.”

Wonwoo doesn’t doubt that. “Good luck for your game. Win it for me?”

“I play every game for you.”

Wonwoo smiles so wide, his nose scrunches. 

“How’s your headache from last night?”

“It’s gone. Don’t worry about me. I’m feeling better.”

“Hyung, I’ve gotta run. I’ll call you before the game starts.”

“Okay. Happy anniversary, for the sixth year.”

“I love you, hyung. Bye.”

“Love you, too,” Wonwoo says back before pulling his phone away from his ear, hitting the end call button. He slumps against the couch, feeling some type of heartsick in his chest. How is it that in all the six years they’ve officially been dating, they have spent only one anniversary actually together? 

Mingyu’s been in Tokyo for five months now, right after he bought a new apartment for the both of them. This place is considerably nicer than their first. It’s bigger, newer and the location in the city is prime. Mingyu barely spent two weeks living here before moving to Tokyo. The night he told Wonwoo about the invitation he received to train with a Japanese football team for two years under a renowned coach, they were walking home from a ramen place with their gloved hands interlaced.

Wonwoo thought it was ridiculous that Mingyu had to break the news to him in the streets, only before he realized the younger must’ve been utterly nervous and wanted it out of his chest despite the inconvenience of the location. 

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” Mingyu had said, holding both of Wonwoo’s hands as they were stood under a traffic light. 

It was crazy to think that Wonwoo didn’t want Mingyu following this opportunity. This could be his big break, the turning point of his career. And who was Wonwoo to stop Mingyu from chasing his lifelong dream? Between the both of them, Mingyu was the one with bigger, more important dreams and the passion that justified it. He had no right to step in between Mingyu and his goal, even if it meant living apart again. After all, it was only for two years. They’ve been apart longer than that when they were in university. They could survive another two. 

“Come with me, hyung. You took Japanese in high school, right? You can find a job there for two years and we’ll come back to Seoul together.”

Wonwoo had thought about it; long and hard. In the end, Mingyu’s suggestion had been too impractical to follow through. Their parents are still in Pyeongchang, and it made Wonwoo uneasy that he wouldn’t be in the country if anything unfortunate had happened to any of them. He also didn’t want to drop his job which he finally got used to and was starting to love. There was too much to leave behind in Seoul to move to another country, even if it was only for a couple of years. 

Mingyu left the next week. He had done so well at keeping in his tears up until the last minute right before he had to ride the escalator down to the gates. Mingyu had held onto Wonwoo as if his life depended on it and let Wonwoo run his hands through Mingyu’s hair for the last time until they could see each other again. Two goodbyes and a kiss later, Mingyu disappeared past the emigration counters.

And then there was the sea between them.

The first few weeks were the hardest to get through. Wonwoo would return to the new apartment expecting Mingyu to be dozing off at the couch with a melodrama playing on low volume on the television, but instead he came home to a cold and empty apartment. The nights were the toughest. Wonwoo had gotten used to sleeping on a queen-sized bed with Mingyu on the right and he on the left. Now, the right is bare and Wonwoo can’t seem to bring himself to sleep in the middle. 

For a while, Wonwoo wanted to do nothing but drown himself in work in the day and come exhausted at night to wait for Mingyu’s call. They’d talk until they run of things to discuss, but even then, Wonwoo would be reluctant to end the conversation. He wanted to see Mingyu’s face, even if it was on a screen, wanted to hear his voice, even if it sounded tired, wanted to be in his presence, even if there were miles in between them. It was never enough, Wonwoo thought, and it started to eat up at him. He thought of finally snapping, of screaming at Mingyu to pack his bags and come back home because he couldn’t take the distance. He was being selfish, wanted to be selfish. But how could he when it was so unfair to Mingyu?

After the first few weeks passed, Wonwoo realized he had forgotten how to spend time by himself. Years of being with Mingyu made him comfortable in the other’s presence. Maybe a little too comfortable. He had never gotten so much time to himself since he was a teenager, and suddenly it was suffocating. He had forgotten how to simply be alone, do things alone, and think alone. It was like he couldn’t function anymore without Mingyu beside him.

It had started with a book. Wonwoo picked up an old favorite one Saturday afternoon from his shelves, sat down, and inhaled it. It was already sundown when he finished reading the last, final page. He wanted to do it again. So he went to the bookstore the next day, browsed for hours through the shelves like he used to when he was younger and fascinated by the wonder books had to offer. He found that he still was. 

When his interest in his books started dwindling by just a little, he started contacting his old friends. He started with Soonyoung from their old apartment block. He went to his place, ate dinner with Soonyoung and Jihoon, talked about mundane things, and it felt good. It felt good to be able to click with someone that isn’t his other half. Afterwards, Wonwoo attempted to contact his university peers, inviting them out for a meal and drinks. He slowly got into the swing of things, socializing and remaking friends, building more healthy friendships. 

Later that night, Wonwoo and Mingyu skyped for hours, taking small sips of beer in between, Empire Strikes Back a distant noise in the background in both their rooms in Seoul and Tokyo. They spend a couple hours discussing Wonwoo’s trip to Tokyo in the winter to watch Mingyu’s game. They plan to travel around Japan afterwards, just the two of them. From Osaka to Kyoto to Hokkaido. Wonwoo realizes then that they’ve never been on an actual trip. Mingyu was always so busy with football training, and Wonwoo with his degree.

It’s early in the morning rather than late in the night when Wonwoo logs out of Skype, eyes heavy but heart full. Another year of them together had passed but he swears it was just yesterday when they were on the old swing set, late summer wind gusting through their hair. As he lies eyes closed on the bed, he wonders if he’ll think of the same thing twenty years later, if the next twenty years would feel just as quick looking back. 

In the months that follow, Wonwoo tries occupying his time by doing the things he never got the chance to when he was younger. When he isn’t at work, he goes for marathon runs despite knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to complete the run on time. He does charity work at an orphanage, getting to know the children living there and helping them however he can. He had always loved kids. Maybe one day he’d adopt one of them, but Wonwoo only lets himself think that far. When he isn’t out, he learns to find comfort in doing quiet, insignificant things at home. He finds television shows to binge watch during the weekends while curled up on the couch, he pours himself a drink every now and then at night, and indulges in a completely pointless game on his phone that eats up more hours of his day than it should. 

Months become a year, and Wonwoo knows he can be in his own company, and it’s comforting all the same. Slowly, he becomes his own person again.

Wonwoo finds that he doesn’t look forward to Mingyu’s calls as much anymore, and it’s not a bad thing. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Mingyu anymore. It means he’s starting to love himself, too. He falls back into an easy, albeit different, routine. In the mornings right after he wakes, his hands don’t subconsciously wander about on the sheets to find Mingyu’s warmth. Instead, Wonwoo’s hand stretches towards the deafening screech of his alarm clock, goes to the bathroom, dresses himself, goes into the kitchen, makes himself a simple breakfast before heading to work. In the evenings, he doesn't expect Mingyu to be home. Still, he comes home to a cold, empty apartment, but he switches on the lights and turns on the heater, pours himself a drink and watches one of Mingyu’s televised matches before running the cycle again. Some weekends, he would go out with a friend, usually Soonyoung or Junhui, and other weekends, he would sleep in and decide not to give a care to the world that day. 

In this routine, Mingyu doesn't come home, and Wonwoo learns to live with that.

+++

Mingyu is nervous. He’s nervous when he should be excited instead. 

He’s home. Well, almost. He’s still in the lift up to the twelfth floor. His body is humming with a strange mixture nervous energy and excitement. He never told Wonwoo he was officially leaving Japan today, meaning for it to be a surprise. His return is long overdue, Mingyu thinks. Two years stretched into three. Three prolonged to four. And now Mingyu is back in Seoul, four years and seven months later.

It was a lot to ask from from Wonwoo, but he was always so supportive. His career was finally taking off in Tokyo. His team was winning tournament after tournament, domestic and international, and gaining a lot of attention from the sports media. After years of training, Mingyu had finally found steady ground with this team and leaving it when he was at his prime felt like a nonsensical act. Wonwoo had understood, even encouraged him to stay as long as he could to play for his team, but Mingyu knew that he was initially upset and unhappy although he never showed Mingyu those emotions. 

Many times over these four years Mingyu had found himself thinking that he was unworthy of Wonwoo. While he was in Japan building his career, he had left Wonwoo alone in Seoul to work his mediocre job. But Wonwoo had stuck with him without complaint, trust unwavering. Relationships are give and take, but Mingyu was taking much more from Wonwoo than he was giving. But he’s here now, even if it had took a little bit more time for him to get back. 

Mingyu sticks the key into the door, twisting slowly. The door swings open and he steps in softly, careful to not make any noise with his luggage and bags. He looks around the apartment and it looks different from the last time he came home, which was over a year ago. Mingyu thinks it could be the new curtains hanging by the balcony windows but he can’t be sure. He finds Wonwoo unmoving, save for his chest, on the couch while the television is quietly blaring a Western film. How he waited for this day. 

It had took years for Mingyu to realize that home was never a physical establishment, a shelter for him to return to after a day of schedules, a place he felt safe and reassured in, or where the walls barricaded him from the things he did not wish to face. Home was never a place, it’s a person. And for Mingyu, who was ever so lucky to be blessed by the universe, he had found his home so early on in his life. 

His home is Wonwoo, and for once, Mingyu has never been more undoubtedly sure of anything else in his life. 

Wonwoo stirs on the couch when Mingyu’s bag makes a little too much noise as it’s being set on the table. He has always been a light sleeper, but ever more so these past few years. His eyelids flutter open, his lashes batting against his soft skin. As his sleepy eyes settle on Mingyu, his brows heighten in surprise. He blinks a few times, bringing his hands over his eyes to rub at them. 

Mingyu smiles. How he missed this; seeing Wonwoo’s face right after he’s woken up. It feels like seeing the Sun for the first time after a terrible storm. “Wake up, it’s me,” he says, gingerly grabbing Wonwoo’s hand away from his eyes.

“Hey,” Wonwoo breathes, voice still thick from sleep.

“Hi.”

“You’re back.”

“I am.”

“For good?”

“For good.”

Wonwoo silently draws his arms around Mingyu’s neck, bringing him closer for a hug. Mingyu is home, and all that’s left to do is to reach for that tiny box in the pocket of his jacket, ask for the promise of forever, and hope to hear the three-letter word. 

(It’s a yes.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading until the end. i’ve been working on this fic since july '16 lmao rip me. don’t know if anyone noticed but there’s a running theme in all of the scenes except for the second last one. feel free to leave a comment if you know what it is! thank you n_n


End file.
